The Undercover Affair. Cathryn Parry

talk about the back terrace,” Lyndsay suggested. “I understand that’s where we’re starting.”

      Kitty’s hand stilled on Lyndsay’s purse. “No, I don’t think so.”

      A crew was already lined up to pour concrete and to bring in plants. There was to be an undercover officer working alongside the legitimate laborers. The task force had set this up.

      “Perhaps we should review the plan as discussed with your husband,” Lyndsay said.

      Kitty’s face darkened. “No. I’m happy with the back patio as it is. I like the outdoor hot tub. Instead, I’d prefer that the master bedroom suite and the upstairs living area be updated. You and I will keep it as our surprise for Paul.”

      If she were a real designer, rather than a police officer, Lyndsay would be terribly concerned. But her job, above all, was to keep Kitty happy, and therefore unsuspicious. Her only real concern with the design plans she and Karen had decided upon was to keep her police-employee laborers busy with a cover story. She needed to fit them in to Kitty’s plans somehow.

      “Very well,” Lyndsay said calmly. They would skip the concrete pouring, but keep the plants. They were on order, with a police planter set to install them. Also, the hot tub would stay.

      “Tell me about the master suite, Kitty. It’s been locked, and Congressman MacLaine asked that I not enter.”

      Kitty waved her hand. “Probably because his safe is in there.”

      “His safe?” Her heart beat faster. No one had said a word about a second safe. Had the congressman even mentioned this to her commander?

      “Should I be worried? About the liability,” she explained.

      Kitty shook her head. “That’s not a consideration.”

      “Okay.” Lyndsay kept her voice cheerful. “It sounds like we’ll be going against what your husband ordered, then.”

      “This is my project for my birthday. And I’ve wanted it for a long time.”

      “How long have you lived here?” Lyndsay asked conversationally. In the academy, she’d been taught that when a person got upset, that it was best to keep him or her calm.

      “We haven’t lived here much since we were married. I never liked that he lived here with somebody else. It reminds me too much of...not me.” Kitty’s jaw moved.

      Ah. So here was the point of tension.

      “And this is your first renovation on the house?” Lyndsay asked gently.

      A short nod. There was an internal anger to her that Lyndsay could sense. A resentment against her husband, perhaps.

      Lyndsay directed a bright smile at her. She could calm a person in a bad mood. It was one of her strengths. Besides, she felt compassion for Kitty, moving into a house that her husband had shared with another woman.

      Kitty wasn’t exactly acting in concert with him. Beneath the smiling surface, she seemed unhappy. Maybe she usually hid it behind a manic, enthusiastic persona. That march of busy-busy-busy. Lyndsay recognized that particular coping mechanism, as well. Being lonely, she did it herself sometimes.

      Lyndsay stood. “I’d love for you to walk me through the house, Kitty. When your husband hired my firm, we spoke about your tastes over the phone, and he filled out some questionnaires for us, but obviously, it’s preferable to hear about your wishes directly from you. I’d love to see what you feel about everything. Hear what you have to say.”

      Kitty’s mouth pursed in thoughtfulness. “What exactly did Paul say to you about my tastes?”

      “You like blues and greens, ocean colors. You want a clean, contemporary design that uses natural materials. Much like what DesignSea specializes in,” she said hastily.

      Kitty nodded. “He did do a great job choosing the design firm,” she admitted.

      Excellent. Lyndsay silently praised Commander Harris for that decision.

      “Why don’t we head upstairs?” Honestly, Lyndsay was dying to get into the master bedroom suite and investigate that safe. The team needed to be informed.

      “First, let me tell you what I want done with this room,” Kitty said. “Right now it’s just a big empty space with a couch and two chairs. I want to keep the pictures of me—” she pointed to the two nudes over the fireplace, and Lyndsay recognized Kitty right away “—but not on white walls. And we’ll need to replace the cracked tile floor. I’d prefer nice vinyl flooring—not wood—since we are at the beach. I really want to see a nice, inviting space with color and modern floors and furniture.”

      “Of course. I’ll make sure that this room is painted and decorated to give it a beachy feel.”

      “Yes, like what you did in your design. I want you to fix up the whole house like that.”

      “We only have two weeks,” she gently reminded Kitty. “And I have to do something with the outside terrace because I already ordered the plants and the crew, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll leave the hot tub and anything else that you want me to keep. And for now, besides the living room, we’ll choose one other room to transform, exactly as you’d like it. But just one. Which would you like?”

      She prayed Kitty didn’t choose the kitchen, because then she would have to refuse her. But if she’d said that upfront, then Kitty might have chosen it. Kitty seemed to have a perverse streak in her, and Lyndsay, while she felt compassion for her obvious unhappiness, had no desire to tap it.

      “All right. Let’s go upstairs.” Kitty set her chin. She stood, walk-marched over to the curving staircase to the second floor and motioned Lyndsay to follow.

      Lyndsay knew the floor plan well, having already worked here for four days. Honestly, what needed the most work was the guest bedroom suite, the rooms where Lyndsay would sleep, which were a wreck, with peeling paint and old, stained carpeting.

      Of course Kitty did not choose the guest bedroom suite. Lyndsay followed her down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

      Lyndsay paused. Curiosity made her stay quiet.

      Kitty tried the handle, but the door didn’t open.

      “It’s locked,” Lyndsay said. “I was asked not to enter.”

      “Well, I want it updated. I hate our furniture, I hate our window treatments, I hate the paint color.” Kitty pulled out her key ring again, and flipped through the keys. Dramatically, she opened the door and stepped inside, waving Lyndsay after her. “Isn’t it ugly?” she asked Lyndsay.

      A king-size bed. Two nondescript dressers—his and hers. Two windows with messy old blinds, drawn. That same white paint that was in every other room. Builders’ grade.

      Wordlessly, Lyndsay entered the small hall that led to the door into the master bath. Also in the hallway were two walk-in closets.

      The safe must be inside one of them. She would check that out later. Turning, she saw a small alcove built into the corner of the room. Here were two more original paintings. Watercolors, smaller than the oil paintings of Kitty downstairs. She peered closer. There was a woman in both paintings, but she didn’t look like Kitty. She sat on the beach in front of this cottage, frolicking with two golden retrievers.

      “I want this entire master bedroom area updated,” Kitty was saying, “including new furniture and bedding. And of course I want the master bathroom remodeled by the time I return from my trip. The open sitting room at the top of the stairs, too. So in summary, I’d like the downstairs living room painted and both main floors, up and down, need to have flooring installed. Of course, that is in addition to the master bedroom and bathroom update.”

      “Kitty...” Lyndsay warned. It was inconceivable that she could manage all that in two weeks, plus act as an undercover detective.

      Defiant, Kitty moved to stand beside